Part Three: 'A Far Country: Elgar, Proust and Modernity at the fin de siecle' Transcript Date: Friday, 14 December 2007 - 12:00PM Location: Barnard's Inn Hall A FAR COUNTRY: ELGAR, PROUST AND MODERNITY AT THE FIN DE SIÈCLE Professor Byron Adams To associate the names of Edward Elgar and Marcel Proust, even in a single sentence, is to risk incredulity, skepticism, and perhaps even a touch of opprobrium. What could the golfing, bicycling English composer possibly have in common with the hypersensitive, asthmatic French novelist? Once the initial shock of incongruity has abated, however, a closer examination reveals that the two men were connected by several threads of surprising strength. Beyond the chance connections of biography, they held aesthetic premises that were common to many artists who engaged with modernity during the fin de siècle. In a comparison of Elgar with Proust, musician with author, Englishman with Frenchman, the work of the composer appears in a light that challenges parochial assumptions about his relation to European modernity during the early years of the twentieth century. Furthermore, viewing Elgar's aesthetics with Proustian vision may well bring the uncanny expressive quality of the Englishman's music into clearer focus. While this investigation takes biography as a point of departure, it will examine central analogies to suggest fresh perspectives on both Elgar's elusive creative process and his essential modernity. The expansive modernity exemplified by the art of Proust and Elgar ended decisively with the First World War. Only the first in a series of twentieth-century cataclysms, the war utterly smashed this strain of modernity, the shards of which were refashioned into (capital-M) Modernism. In this regard, Proust's reputation fared somewhat better than Elgar's, as key elements of the French author's style accorded with post-war literary Modernism better than the English composer's idiom fared in the brave new world of Stravinsky. Despite the honors garnered by the French novelist and the English composer in the 1920s, to several generations after the Second World War, such lengthy, discursive works as Elgar's symphonies and Proust's roman fleuve, A la recherche du temps perdu, seemed to be opulent artifacts of a leisurely and self-absorbed civilization that had vanished forever; such Modernists were baffled, impatient, and, at times, repelled. In their artistic circles, Proust and Elgar shared at least one acquaintance in common, Gabriel Fauré, whose art had a marked effect upon both men.[i] Proust was intrigued by Fauré's personality and music: in typically hyperbolic fashion, the novelist enthused to the French composer, 'Not only do I like, admire, indeed adore your music, I have for some time been and continue to be in love with it.'[ii] While it has been inferred, wrongly, that Fauré was one of the models for the otherworldly composer Vinteuil in A la recherche du temps perdu - the naïve César Franck is a more plausible candidate than the sophisticated Fauré - it is evident that Fauré's music partially inspired the sumptuous descriptions of Vinteuil's Sonata and Septet. Fauré does make an appearance in A la recherche du temps perdu - but as another, unnamed character, the description of whom makes Proust's keen understanding of Fauré's character very clear.[iii] Elgar met Fauré through their mutual patron, Frank Schuster. Elgar wrote to Schuster, 'I was very sad over Fauré's death - he was such a realgentleman - the highest type of Frenchman & I admired him greatly. His chamber music never had a chance here in the old Joachim days I fear: I may be wrong but I feel that it was 'held up' to our loss.'[iv] As Elgar's French was as rudimentary as Fauré's English, it is doubtful that there was more than a warm mutual musical admiration between the two composers. Despite his remark about Fauré's chamber music being 'held up,' Elgar had many opportunities to hear the French composer's work as it was performed frequently in the music rooms of Schuster's two luxurious homes. Indeed, the main theme of the finale of Elgar's Second Symphony bears a remarkable resemblance to the opening theme of the first movement of Fauré's First Piano Quartet, op. 15. Passages in Elgar's late Violin Sonata and Piano Quintet suggest further that he had more than a glancing acquaintance with Fauré's First Violin Sonata and two piano quartets. Unlike Fauré, it is almost certain that Proust never encountered the name of Edward Elgar or heard any of his music, although many leading French musicians, such as Ravel, were certainly aware of the English composer.[v] It is also entirely possible that Elgar never read a word of Proust's writings or, indeed, knew he existed. However, Siegfried Sassoon, who became part of Frank Schuster's circle after the war, was well aware of Proust's novel and may have mentioned it to Elgar. In his diaries kept in the early 1920s, the period in which he became acquainted with Elgar, Sassoon writes of reading Proust assiduously, as in an intriguing entry for November 12, 1922: 'Foggy weather. Lunched at Brook's with Roderick . Saw Elgar. Talked a lot about P. [roust] to Roderick.'[vi] Maddening in its lack of specificity, this entry does not disclose whether Sassoon spoke to Elgar or merely glanced at him. Certainly Schuster, who was a member of the beau monde of both Paris and London, and an acquaintance of Proust's friend the Princesse Edmond de Polignac (née Winaretta Singer), may well have heard stories of the nocturnal author who wrote in a cork-lined bedroom in his apartment on the Boulevard Hausmann.[vii] Whether Sassoon or Schuster mentioned Proust to Elgar is sadly unverifiable. What is remarkable are the ways in which Elgar's social circle overlapped with that of Proust, as their common propensity toward social climbing propelled them into the upper reaches of society at a time when the artistic English upper classes were intimately connected with the Parisianhaut monde. Despite their apparent dissimilarities, Proust and Elgar shared a surprising number of character traits. A driving force in both lives was a fascination with - and occasional revulsion towards - high society, and both men made strenuous efforts to ascend to stratospheric heights in the fashionable world. Both were hypochondriacs who virtually demanded to be coddled: Proust by his long-suffering mother and later his housekeeper Céleste Albaret, and Elgar by his equally long-suffering wife, Alice.[viii] They both were interested in science: Proust was the son and brother of distinguished doctors, while Elgar performed chemical experiments and collected scientific treatises. Finally, Proust and Elgar were deeply narcissistic, although their narcissism manifested itself in divergent ways. In both cases this trait enriched their art while making the lives of those around them exhaustingly difficult. Both were essentially autobiographical artists who assumed the personalities of others to express their innermost understanding of themselves and the world around them - Elgar in theEnigma Variations seeing himself as refracted through the prisms his friends' personalities and Proust in his novel with its two narrating voices, the naïve Marcel and the older Narrator, neither of which is the voice of the author.[ix] Like all great narcissistic artists, Elgar and Proust redeemed themselves in part by their lasting and precious achievements, a paradoxical generosity of spirit, and accomplishments that transcended their personal neuroses and self- absorption. Apart from illuminations offered by biography, a number of elective affinities shared by the composer and author show them deeply engaged with the aesthetic currents of their time in similar ways. Proust was certainly the more overtly intellectual of the two, yet Elgar was a voracious reader who kept up with the latest developments in music and literature. They were attracted powerfully to the highly influential and, indeed, politically and aesthetically radical, writings of John Ruskin. Proust translated two of Ruskin's books, including Sesame and Lilies, a line from which Elgar affixed to the score of his oratorio, The Dream of Gerontius. Moreover, both were influenced by the decadent writers of the period, including Oscar Wilde.[x] (It should be stressed that the word 'decadent' is employed here as a signifier for a set of shared aesthetic premises and is used without pejorative intent.) Elgar's oratorio, The Apostles, treats the figure of Mary Magdalene in a fashion reminiscent of Wilde's evocations of that equivocal saint, while the young Proust, who may have met Wilde, was initially influenced by, and never wholly renounced, decadent aesthetics. Elgar and Proust were baptized as Roman Catholics, although, in the manner of such decadent Catholics as Paul Verlaine and Ernest Dowson, they tended to subsume many aspects of their religion into their aesthetics. Churches, stained glass windows, and cathedrals appear obsessively throughout Proust's writings as symbols of a searching analysis of religion, and were as important to him as Catholic ritual and music, and the poetry of Cardinal Newman were for Elgar.[xi] On an equally profound level, both composer and author were influenced by the decadent's fascination with the glamour of decay. In Proust, the reader's attention is being drawn constantly to the themes of aging and death. The great final scene of Le temps retrouvé, the final volume of A la recherche du temps perdu, is a danse macabre in the guise of a soirée. Here the Narrator, acutely aware of the decay of his own body, witnesses the grotesque effects that time has wrought upon his contemporaries: the knowledge of death becomes a spur towards the writing of a novel that will redeem his prodigal waste of time.